Harry Potter and the Curse of Ephemeral Time
by AwfulLawful
Summary: Harry's life is going well after the Epilogue- a wife, three lovely children, a good career and more friends and relatives then he'd have ever hoped for living in a cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive. But nothing is forever. People mature.
1. Chapter 1

This story has not happened yet.

Harry Potter's books ended with the Epilogue, which if I am correct will take place in 2017. At the moment in real time Harry has three young children nowhere near ready to go to school yet and is living happily with Ginny at the age of 31.

Given the generation that initially fell in love with the wizarding world; that isn't much older than many of the writers and artists who lovingly put their own spins on these characters and the relationships between them in fafiction and fanart. Many, like me, began to write before the story was concluded and formed internal views and opinions about these fantastic Witches and Wizards who captivated us so effortlessly as children and even more so as adults. It is unfortunate that even now with the story complete many of us are unable or unwilling to let go of these views, no matter how incorrect they may now be. We have chosen to select various places in the timeline to split the development and progress of their world and begin from that point on. Still more have created entirely alternate universes in which to play the field. This is perfectly normal and nothing to be ashamed of - we have all done it at some time.

Yet, I feel that we may be missing something vital to these characters by depriving them of so many of the experiences that have shaped them into the Heroes, Villains and everything in between that made them so enrapturing in the first place. We tend to identify the characters we read about with aspects of ourselves and with that comes the tendency to want to write about them when they are our age, regardless of what affect that will have on the life lessons that have shaped them.

Perhaps that is why so many of us see flaw or regret in our works as we mature. Not only do writing styles and literary comprehension evolve with experience, but we begin to realize that comparing the characters from our works with the people in the books or media they originated from falls short. Something isn't adding up. They have grown, but our ideals of them have not. It is with this in mind that I have begun to change the way I write; completely deleting and trying to forget the stories I have written in the past. Now as a new writer with a clean slate to start from, I present to you the first of undoubtedly many stories I will write with the entirety of the original tale intact and keeping to the characters accurately as best I can.

This tale begins just after the Epilogue. There have been some liberties taken with the intervening years. For example, nobody knows exactly when most of the children were born. The best estimate for James Sirius Potter is between 2002 and 2005, and most of the children don't have many personality traits established. Other than these things I'll try not to divert too much.

I don't like tragic endings, and there will be none in my stories.

If, like me, the end of a good story leaves you wanting more it should comfort you to remember one thing: as I have already stated-

This story has not happened yet. When you are done reading it, at some point in time, it will happen again.

* * *

Chapter 1 - Weasley Conduct

"There are no happy endings, because nothing ever _ends_." ~Schmendrick the Magician

"You thought there was _a corpse under my bed_?" Percy's face had gone rather white, making his hair and freckles stand out ridiculously. "And you let me keep sleeping there?"

George snickered into his drink. "Or in it. Under. Something like that. Look, Hogwarts is a big old castle. There's corpses everywhere! People have been bricked up in walls never to be found again. And that was before we figured out the Map doesn't name the dead, alright? Well, the truly departed. It names ghosts just fine." The smattering of giggles and chuckles in the bar allowed him another swig before continuing. "Besides, you didn't seem the type for entertaining gentleman callers, and the name just never left your bed since you kept that bloody rat in a cage under it all the time. We figured you'd find out eventually, and if not we could just use it to horrify you later."

How the subject of the Marauder's Map had come up Harry wasn't certain. He guessed it had been somewhere between his third and fourth drink. They'd come to the Leaky Cauldron to meet up after dropping off the kids that were going to school this year and Arthur and Molly took the rest so they could eat, drink, and generally be an annoying gaggle of Weasleys. Regardless, he'd participated in the badgering questions and let George fill in some gaps about the thing too until the older man had pointed out he and his twin could always tell who was sneaking off to snog or whatnot since the footprints and names pretty much superimposed when two people were that close. It was then that Harry asked if they'd ever seen the name Peter Pettigrew since the map wasn't fooled by Animagus forms and all hell broke loose.

"How long did it take you two to realize it wasn't a body?" Ginny asked.

"Months!" George laughed, gesturing to his flabbergasted brother with his now empty mug. "You never took the ruddy thing to class much. Eventually we did see the prints move though, and decided you really WERE shagging some endlessly clingy bloke named Peter!"

Those unfortunate enough to be drinking at that moment either snorted or coughed their respective beverages, Hermione and Fleur included. Some creative French profanity later, everyone righted themselves when Ron asked the obvious.

"Wait a minute! If you and Fred thought Percy was buggering some bloke, then what did you think was going on when I inherited Scabbers and the name was in _my_ bed?"

George shrugged. "Same thing."

Harry smirked wryly. "And it never occurred to you to intervene when your eleven year old brother was suddenly sharing a bed with an obviously much older student, and Percy's ex at that?"

"Why would we? Look around you, Harry, at all these happily married Weasleys. Quite obviously we're irresistible!" George said theatrically.

"Clearly." Fleur muttered into her martini. Hermione and Angelina snickered.

"After Percy graduated and left him high and dry, the poor bloke had to find himself another one, didn't he?"

Percy scoffed. "Hang on. I was still at Hogwarts in Ron's first year."

Ginny smiled. "Yes, but you were a Prefect and an insufferable prat. I wouldn't doubt he'd left you."

George toasted her. "Excellent point, Ginny. Though we were surprised he went for Ron of all people. Fred and I were disappointed he never asked!" The bar dissolved from conversation and storytelling to hysterical laughter and general noise whilst in the background George tried valiantly to point out, "Not that we would, mind you." During the distracting moment Bill took advantage of the situation and stealthily swapped out Fleur's martini for water, spelling it to taste. Harry toasted him and only just spotted Ginny giving him a glare just daring him to try the same on her. Harry, not wanting her to tattle on them, bought her another whiskey sour.

A few more hours of this and Hannah, Neville Longbottom's wife and Landlady of the Leaky Cauldron, finished enough work to sit with them awhile. "Evening all," she beamed.

"Hannah, how's Neville doing?" George asked fondly.

"Oh, he's alright. A bit stressed this year, is all. It's the first time he's had to grow Mandrake without assistance and he hates those things." Hannah paused and looked at Hermione, who had gone quiet after finishing her drink. She was staring into the fire. "Hermione? What's wrong?"

She took a breath and sat back in her chair. "We've been here all day. The sorting should be about now."

Everyone seemed to calm and sober a bit at that. Each parent had a different reaction. Those without first years didn't seem worried, but Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny were almost squirming with anticipation. They couldn't wait to get the letters that would tell them what house their children had been sorted into, and Harry was interested in hearing about what the Sorting Hat said to him, if it gave him a choice.

"Rose'll be in Gryffindor," Ron crowed proudly. "I just know it."

"Maybe." Harry paused a moment when he saw Malfoy come in alone and order a drink. Fleetingly he wondered where his wife was. "I'm not sure about Albus."

Hermione's brow furrowed a bit. She didn't usually do anything that obvious unless she was involved in something terribly distressing, so she must have been quite drunk and hiding it well. Hannah, perceptive as always, went to fetch her a water. "I thought he was afraid of being put in Slytherin. The Sorting Hat would take that into account, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," Harry agreed, though he wondered.

They had all seen clearly over the years that the hat did indeed take the values, worries and preferences of the children into account when deciding where to place them. Immediately after the war's end Slytherin had become abysmally unpopular. It was a good thing that Hogwarts Castle seemed to 'grow' extra spaces as needed, otherwise there would have been an awful lot of crowding in the other houses. As it was now there were two Gryffindor Towers (the previous one being retained for girls and the new one for the boys), Ravenclaw had extended upward by three floors, and the Slytherin dorms had been partially empty for so long that many of the rooms had been converted into extra classrooms and recreation areas.

Harry had seen that Hufflepuffs numbers had grown substantially enough to justify extra space, yet the castle hadn't expanded for them. Hermione theorized it was because of how the students of that particular house handled themselves. They were such a tolerant lot that they didn't mind the crowding and got along quite well. Harry visited Hogwarts from time to time when he went to teach Defense Against the Darks Arts classes and knew how the houses interacted.

While it was still generally true that Gryffindors were still the bravest and most determined, Ravenclaws were the most intelligent and clever, and Slytherins were the most resourceful and cunning; Hufflepuff was no longer the 'everyone else' house. They were clearly the friendliest and most accepting. Hufflepuff had transformed after the war from the essential extra house to the house of hope for the future, as its founder must have known it would eventually be.

Those Pureblood lines that still sent their children to Hogwarts after the war instead of electing Durmstrang or Beauxbatons had ended up with their tradition of nothing but Slytherins quickly diminished. Many of the students were too wary of merely being there that they had ended up in Hufflepuff instead, much to the chagrin of many of their families, Harry was sure. But they had always been welcomed by their housemates and quickly learned how to forge and maintain good friendships based on trust, and Harry could tell a lot of those families would be improved for it.

Which reminded him.

"Oi, Malfoy," Harry called. The man gave him a curious, annoyed look to acknowledge he was paying attention. "Any word on the sorting yet?"

"No, Potter. Not yet. Have you?" His drink was frothing angrily despite the liquid itself being very still. Harry suspected it was both very strong and very expensive. He shook his head and Malfoy looked away, signaling the end of the conversation.

"That's the most you've spoken in seventeen years." Ginny's comment sounded impressed, but Ron had other opinions.

"Don't make a habit of it, Mate. Besides, we all know the house _he's_ hoping for," he snorted.

Hermione flicked some of her water at him. "Don't be obnoxious, Ron."

"Where do you suppose his wife is?" Harry asks quietly, noting that Malfoy was now speaking in hushed tones to the bartender. He made a note to check on that.

"Oh, don't you read the news, Harry?" Fleur sighed at him.

Angelina nodded. "Yes, it was all very scandalous. Their marriage was annulled over a year ago. Apparently Mr. Malfoy did something that voided the pre-nuptial agreement. She sent him packing immediately."

"I heard it had something to do with children." George snickered. "He must be a very busy man."

"No." Harry frowned. "He doesn't seem that type. Yes, he's got flaws, but I don't think he'd betray his family that way."

Hermione looked better after she got her water and Hannah went back to work. Harry noted that she gave Malfoy a kind smile before going into the back, which he answered with a nod in her general direction.

"Whatever it was, he's just lucky to have seen her today. Nice of her to see Scorpius off to school." Fleur yawned loudly in the middle of this and it was hard to make out, so Bill and Percy said their goodbyes to take her home. Ron got back just as they left and caught them at the door for farewells.

Soon it was only Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left, and they chatted long into the night past the point where they should have been awake much less away from home. Malfoy left an hour or so after arriving, and as last call sounded to nobody but them Harry got up to see what the bartender had heard, or if he would be willing to tell any of it.

"Just your standard worried dad sending his first little one off on the train," he smiled. "The single ones always fret the most, you know. Being that he doesn't work much he spends a lot of time with the boy. Wouldn't be surprised if he's missing him already."

Harry didn't sense any lies and he shook his head with a chastising grin as he walked out with Ginny. "I'm paranoid." he muttered.

"You're an Auror. You're trained to be paranoid," she pointed out.

Harry waited a beat. "Speaking of, should we-"

"NO."

"But-"

"Harry Potter," she snapped angrily. "You are an overprotective maniac. Lily is fine spending the night at her Grandparents tonight. ALL night. You won't sneak over there and get her. Swear."

He groaned and looked into the distance, wand hand twitching. "I won't. I just want her at home. In her own bed."

"She will be tomorrow. Tonight let her have some fun. The Burrow isn't as much a stronghold as Hogwarts, but you'd be hard-pressed to find someone better than Mum at dealing with any problems, alright?" Ginny was terribly patient with him, Harry knew. He couldn't seem to help himself when his family was concerned though. At some point when Ginny had been pregnant with James, Hero mode had switched on. He couldn't seem to turn it off.

"Let's just get home, yeah?"

"Yeah."


	2. The More Things Change

Sorry this next post took so long, everyone. I've been exhausted recently to the point where I do nothing but work and sleep, so writing has been a bit beyond my reach for a while. None the less I will perservere. Chapter 1 of my next story, a future bit of this one centering on Albus and his search for love, is mostly complete and should be posted before the week is out.

* * *

Of all the things to hear on her way to the loo Hermione hadn't expected, 'Potter can be scary when he wants to be'. Honestly, on the sliding scale of obviousness that statement fell somewhere between 'the sun is really bright' and 'centaurs rape people'.

She momentarily lost her train of thought as she fondly recalled the memory of Dolores Umbridge being carried off into the forest by a bunch of them and, later, Harry's look of shock and disgust when everyone had to explain what had been so funny about the clopping sounds Ron had been using to make her jump in the hospital wing. And then he'd yelled at everybody for teasing her that way, the heroic idiot. Despite all the things that horrid woman had done to the students, the school, the bloody _ministry_, Hermione suspected Harry would have bounded off into the woods to save her if he'd known. Which was precisely why she hadn't told him anything.

Where was she going?

Lavatory!

Resisting the urge to hold her breath, Hermione turned the corner into the door and rushed to relieve herself. She hadn't told Ron she was pregnant yet because he was so busy on his latest case and still sulking over missing Rose while she was at school. Once he calmed down she'd tell him. Molly already knew, because she'd noticed all those little things Ron was too thick to pick up on. Like Hermione's unfortunate symptom of losing the ability to hold herself for long when she had to urinate. Despite it being a rarer but normal pregnancy symptom and, for a witch, easy to hide and clean up; she really didn't want to wet herself at work. Again.

Back on topic. Someone had seen Harry weight training and realized how built he'd gotten, which was where the comment had originated. Far as she could tell Harry had been using the training areas to work out his anger over yet another row with Ginny. They seemed to be fighting a lot in recent years and since Harry certainly wasn't going to direct his anger at _her_ (only partially because he'd have more than a dozen furious redheads trying to murder him) he'd taken to demolishing inanimate objects instead. And since magic didn't quite pack as much of an emotional satisfaction as physically beating on things, he used swords and fists instead. The sword training he'd been doing with Neville, who was amazingly good at it.

This was fine with Ginny as it kept them from getting into any serious rows, kept him fit for the battles he inevitably got in, and over the course of five years had made Harry look like something out of Roman architecture. This successful strategy for deflecting his anger had NOT helped their relationship though.

Hermoine made her way to the training room she knew Harry frequented purposefully. She had an idea that might help, and it was more of an option now than it had ever been before what with Rose's whining about the dreadfully inept Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts.

Harry was a fantastic Auror. Since he'd been pulled into it to help round up the remainder of the Death Eaters just after the war he'd managed to work his way up through the ranks purely by being devastatingly good at it and managed to reach Head of the Auror Office in his mid-twenties; an unheard of feat. Though everyone was undoubtedly proud of him and admired the achievement it was still generally viewed as a drawback by the family because of one thing; it was slowly driving him mad. Not because of the pace or stress or even the politics involved, but just because he was Harry.

When he received a call and didn't dispatch a team fast enough, or even if he arrived seconds too late himself to stop the carnage, Harry believed the results _entirely his fault_. If a criminal escaped him (rare though it was) Harry always held each crime committed after that by the one he'd lost his own personal failure. He obsessed over 'what if's and 'should have's until he couldn't sleep, wouldn't be able to eat and took out his frustrations unknowingly on other people.

No matter how much older he'd gotten since they'd met Harry hadn't changed in one very obvious way. He wore guilt like an ermine cape. It was impossible to ignore. And it had to stop if he was going to fix this problem with his wife.

So she stood in the doorway watching him punch and kick at bags he'd bought in Muggle shops since Wizards didn't really have a need for equipment like that unless they were Roman Traditionalists.

"Quit," she said clearly when he'd paused to take a breather.

He looked back at her and snorted. "I've barely been here an hour."

"No." She smiled. "Quit the Aurors. Retire."

"And what would I do with my time exactly?" Harry began punching the bag again, as if that ended the discussion.

"Besides Ginny?"

He laughed. "Don't you think there'll be enough Potters already what with James and his resemblance to his middle namesake? I'll be elbow-deep in grandchildren as it is, only half of them legitimate. It isn't as if the mothers' won't give them my name, the little tarts."

"You've been thinking about it for years. Admit it." Her challenge was met with silence aside from the thumping sounds of his fists. "Harry. You know Hogwarts would have you on as Defense-"

"I would hate to be a student at that school when one of my parents was a Professor," he snapped. "It's embarrassing enough to get detention as it is without the other students calling it a grounding."

Hermione sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "Yes, I can see how that would be annoying for them. But for once can you think about yourself and not do absolutely everything based on what's best for everyone else?"

"Give me your long list of reasons, then, since you've obviously prepared it," he sighed, and prepared himself for round six hundred of Hermione trying to convince him to quit his job.

* * *

Damn, damn, DAMN.

Harry had resolved not to take Hermione's advice in career matters anymore. Three weeks had gone by since she'd convinced him to step down as Head of the Auror Office, and if one thought defeating Voldemort had been a bitch they had no idea what it was like to step down from a position in your thirties that was usually only open after the previous holder had died. True that was mostly because the position itself was dangerous, but still. The media had been having a field day with him.

Just after receiving the frighteningly prompt acceptance letter for his application to Hogwarts DADA Professor Harry had stepped down from Head Auror to Auror, which entailed him doing only a third of the stuff he usually did since he was no longer organizing an entire office of divisions of people and managed to only be working fifty hour weeks. He had to admit he liked having more time to spend with his family. His stress level had dropped significantly after finally accepting that it was possible for him to trust other people to pick up where he'd left off.

Despite what he'd gone through in the War: the entire wizarding world wasn't about to fall apart without him. That revelation had been one of the best sensations of his life. Knowing that he was no longer the singular option every witch and wizard had to fall back on let him sleep better at night. If only the rest of Hermione's proposed plan had been working as well family-wise as it had for Harry personally.

Ginny almost seemed affronted that Harry was at home more often. It was possible they were just going through a transition period getting used to the new schedule. Being home in the evenings was something that only happened once or twice weekly before, and even then he usually had gone to bed just after dinner. If a case was particularly difficult he had a tendency to just sleep in his office rather than bother with the commute. Over the years Harry had essentially forced Ginny to get used to being a single mum with alimony payments and the occasional bedroom intruder, and he knew it.

Since stepping down he'd tried everything he could think of to fall back into being a big part of the family again. They'd gone out in the evenings either all together or just Harry and Ginny. They all answered the boys' school letters together after dinner. He helped with the cooking and washing up (two skills Ginny had likely forgotten he even possessed) and helped Lily with her pre-boarding school work to be certain she would be ready for her first year.

Through it all Harry got the distinct impression that his assistance was annoying his wife. True, she didn't really _need_ to sit back and relax while he did the washing up himself, but she certainly deserved it. He didn't understand why waking up on a Saturday with nothing to do bothered her. Weren't there books to read and family to visit and gardens to tend?

Their fighting had gotten worse.

For the past few days Harry had been meeting his previous work hours by getting through his shifts and going to the training rooms, not leaving until he knew Ginny would be asleep. A horrible sinking feeling had settled in his gut as he'd informed Ron and George at the shop that he believed the days he stayed out were the best ones they had since there simply wasn't the time to fight. While his brothers-in-law had sworn that they were simply going through a temporary rough patch and they'd get through it, Harry couldn't help but notice Hermione looked genuinely depressed when he talked about it.

It was only when Hermione finally announced her pregnancy the previous weekend at the family get together at the Burrow this past weekend that he and Ginny finally had some nice moments together; sharing in the celebration in a throng of excitable Weasleys. Harry wasn't precisely what spells Molly had used (she had been the midwife to all of her daughters) but the announcement of twins knocked everyone giddy for a while. George had hugged Hermione so much that both Ron and Angelina actually got jealous over it, but not enough to begrudge him.

That night he and Ginny had connected again, as the best friends they had become if nothing else. They went home, made love until they slept from exhaustion, had a lovely next morning together on the porch... and were fighting again by noon. To be honest Harry wasn't even certain how most of the rows started. Something wasn't right and he knew it. They loved each other; that much was clear. Nothing was changing that anytime soon and, if Harry had anything to do with it, nothing ever would. But even he knew when to admit help was needed.

Today he would go home on time and propose counseling. He only hoped that it wouldn't cause another fight.

Dreading the conversation, Harry paused in his work and sighed. He didn't think anything would be able to cheer him up today. With only a few hours left in his shift Harry decided he needed some tea in his system to help him bear the inevitable explosion.

He'd barely stood up, though, before his office door lurched open and someone hurried in. For a moment he didn't recognize the wizard that slammed the door behind him and pressed his back to it as if he were barricading himself from a foe. Then realization dawned and Harry stared, nonplussed, at a decidedly ruffled and equally perplexed Draco Malfoy.

"Hell," the man muttered after a moment. "I forgot this wasn't Smith's office anymore."

Harry tried to reply, but Malfoy's hair was stuck up at impossible angles and a shade of electric green he suspected would soon be illegal as anything but prison garb and the git apparently had _no idea_. He ended up choking on any words that might have come out of his mouth and ended up laughing instead. Malfoy's exasperated, "_What?_" only made it more difficult to stop.

Suddenly, Harry knew he'd have the courage to get through the day now if he could only remember this mental image and solve the mystery of who'd been tormenting Malfoy before he left.


End file.
